


Tomb Raiding and Other Unsavory Professions

by LadyofMercy



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Black Emporium, Curses, F/M, Magical Artifacts, Secret Identity, do I even know what this is about yet, the answer is: NOT rREALLY ENJHOY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8475787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyofMercy/pseuds/LadyofMercy
Summary: Enasa was looking for a way out of Kirkwall. She had been locked inside the city walls since the rebellion began and was getting desperate for a way out. In retrospect joining the Inquisition may not have been the best decision.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ratings may change. Tags WILL CHANGE. I have no idea what I'm doing.

“The Inquisitor has accepted my invitation”, Xenon said, his voice echoing around the room. The words stopped me in my tracks, my hand frozen on the door.

I had penned the letter myself weeks ago. Word of the Inquisition had been growing steadily over the last few months. Stories had trickled in from traders and those brave enough to travel during a civil war; whispers of impossible magic, epic battles, each story more outrageous than the last. Now the Inquisitor was finally making the journey to Kirkwall. 

“I did not expect him to make the journey north so soon.” Truthfully, I had doubted he would come at all, but I dare not say that aloud. There had been no word of rifts forming north of the Waking Sea so far. Most of the Inquisition's efforts had been focused in Fereldan and the immediate areas around the Breach where a majority of the rifts had formed.

“Their curiosity always trumps their trepidation, my dear.”, he said a little smugly. I did not respond. I had voiced my doubts when he had asked me to write the letter in the first place. He would be gloating over their swift response for days.

Since it's inception over a hundred years ago many powerful men and women had entered The Black Emporium looking for fortune. To many people Xenons business was just a rumour, a campfire tale of treasures buried deep within the old ruins of Kirkwall. It certainly was difficult to find, even I didn’t fully understand the magic that kept it hidden from the prying eyes of the guards or greedy treasure seekers. 

I left the store and made my way out of Darktown and into the streets above, stalking familiar pathways in a too familiar pattern. Since the mage-templar war started Xenon had restricted my movements to the city and its immediate surrounds. He said I was too valuable an asset to risk my death out in the field. We had waited out such conflicts before, and while I agreed that any journey would be dangerous in such times, I felt more like a prisoner as the weeks and months passed. 

The Inquisitors impending arrival filled me with hope for the first time in years. Skyhold had become a centre of trade despite its position in the Frostbacks. It would be a secure place to get in touch with my contacts and begin my search again, and how often would a potentially friendly armed force be travelling directly from Kirkwall to there? It was a rare opportunity but I would remain cautious until he arrived. I needed to assess the man myself before making plans, after all, many had entered The Black Emporium and turned away with disgust. I couldn’t say I blamed them. It was a place filled with curiosities, each more terrible and fascinating than the last, and if he shied away from it all I doubt he would be receptive to taking me with him when he left.

I felt like I had spent most of my life waiting for something or the other. A month or so, I could wait that long. 

\------

I was adjusting the ledgers in the back room when I heard Xenons voice. You could hear him from everywhere inside the Emporium as if he was standing directly in front of you. His vocal cords had atrophied and turned to dust centuries ago but with the help of some rather clever spells around the Emporium he communicated by projecting his thoughts. Unfortunately for me, listening to him speak felt like insects crawling over my ear drums, even after all these years.

I could hear the muffled sound of other voices as well but I was too engrossed in my work to pay much attention. I generally avoided the public areas of the Emporium when there were people around. The nature of Xenons business tended to attract the unsavory sorts. A man from Tevinter had offered to purchase me the last time I went out front. That had not gone over well with Xenon or myself. 

I continued my work until Xenon spoke to me directly.

“Come out here, Enasa” he said.

I set my quill down on the desk, careful not to mark the pages. I walked down the hall softly, avoiding the creaky floorboards out of habit and so the group did not hear my entrance into the room. There was a Nevarran woman standing next to Xenon trying very hard not to stare directly at him, and failing. Two men were standing across the room closely examining the collection of enchanted battle axes. By their dress I assumed one was a mage -by the cut of his robe I assumed from Tevinter- and the other a warrior of some type.

“Bull would love this. Look at the Dawn Stone on the hilt, Dorian!” the taller man said excitedly. 

“And how exactly are you going to carry all this back to Skyhold. A pack of druffalo, perhaps, or maybe one of those awful overgrown nugs you’re so fond of?” the mage aid in response.

Rumour said the Inquisitor was a warrior, not a mage of any sort, aside from the cursed hand. The warrior had thick gauntlets on his hands but I could still sense the strange ambient magic, even from across the room.

It had been less than a week since we had received the letter and I had not expected the Inquisitor to arrive so fast. He cut an imposing figure, he was tall, his shoulders broad from years of military training. His short brown hair was messy and there was a fresh cut on his cheek. They had obviously come straight to the Emporium rather than finding lodgings in the city. 

“You sound almost disapproving. I thought you'd be jumping at the chance to spend a bit of coin in this place.”

“On the contrary, I’m quite impressed. Did you see-”

“We have a guest.” I turned to see the Nevarran woman staring straight at me, frowning slightly. I had spent longer than I thought staring at the Inquisitor. 

Both men turned towards me as I stepped forward towards the centre of the room “My apologies, Inquisitor. I was simply surprised to see you here so fast. We only received your letter a week ago.”

“We were already in the area when we received your invitation.” said the woman, no longer frowning.

I introduced myself to the group, “l am Xenons assistant, Enasa”.

The Inquisitor met me halfway across the floor and bowed his head in greeting, he then grasped my hand and raised it to his lips. ”I am Maxwell Trevelyan. These are my companions Cassandra and Dorian.”

“A pleasure to meet you all.” 

He released my hand my hand gently and I clasped them together behind my back. Despite not having functional eye sockets I could feel Xenons gaze on the back of my neck. He knew me too well, I was not normally so polite with his guests, especially those who were flirtatious. “I’ve heard much about your exploits across Thedas, your Worship. Your efforts to seal the rifts have brought much notoriety.”

“Most of what you’ve heard is exaggeration, I’m sure.”

“Then you didn't seal the breach and fight an ancient Tevinter magister and his army all in the same day?”

“Unfortunately for us that part of the story is true” he grinned sheepishly, “but the size of the army tends to increase the further Varric gets into his cups”

“It is impressive nonetheless.” I said. I wanted to ask him more about the war and the state of things in Fereldan and Orlais but Xenon was quick to interrupt. 

“Enasa will help you make arrangements for delivery. It has been quite a long time since I could sign my own documents.”

I lead the Inquisitor towards the small desk in the corner of the room and pulled out the necessary forms. He wished to purchase an array of enchanted weapons, rare schematics and potentially dangerous artifacts for the Inquisition. Maxwell, as he preferred to be called, was friendly enough through the exchange and deferred to Dorian when we began discussing the more technical aspects of transporting magical items by ship. Despite my initial reservations the Tevinter, Dorian, was friendly enough. After seeing the shape of my ears he had not dismissed my suggestions and even deferred to my more specialised expertise. 

The Inquisitors manner was warm towards both his companions, despite Dorian being a mage, and my respect for the man grew exponentially as he listened attentively to both our suggestions. 

We decided I would meet with them personally at the docks in three days for the exchange as extra security measures would need to be in place to ensure the safety of the cargo. 

I did not breached to topic of accompanying them to Skyhold, not with Xenon listening. I would find out where they were staying and speak with him privately. Three days would give me the time I needed to convince Xenon to let me leave Kirkwall. If I sounded too overeager he would deny me out of spite or jealousy. I needed to make my leaving sound good for the business to get him to agree but I was confident I could pull it off.

I went to bed that evening with a smile on my face and for the first time in a long time I was actually excited for the days to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New chapter and Enasa's journey begins.

In my excitement I had arrived early at the docks. The breeze from the Waking Sea provided little relief from the midday sun and sweat was starting to gather at the nape of my neck. Thaddeus had helped carry the weapons chest to the docks and I would not be able to move it from this spot without considerable effort on my part. I sat on top of the chest and examined my daggers while I waited. It had been a long time since I had cause to carry them with me but the edges were still razor sharp.

They had been a gift from Xenon when I had first left for Antiva on my own. There had been a rumor of a goblet or a cup of some kind hidden in the far Northeastern reaches of Thedas that would grant whoever drank from it eternal youth. The search had been fruitless but I still had my daggers. Whoever had forged the blades had folded the steel over and over again to strengthen the metal and make a stronger blade. The technique had created beautiful ripples in the steel that reminded me of a flowing stream, each blade having it’s own unique pattern. The matching grips were made of a plain dark leather to not undermine the simple elegance of the steel itself. They were beautiful, and the only possession I truly treasured.

Despite my best efforts I had been unable to leave the store since I first spoke with the Inquisitor. I had hoped to speak with him well before the exchange to secure my passage to Fereldan. While Xenon had agreed that it was time to start up the acquisitions side of the business again, he had done his best to stop me leaving the store. Instead of planning for my absence I had spent the last three days running errands and doing other menial tasks at his behest. Nonetheless, I had hidden a small rucksack near the entrance to the old Qunari quarters in case this all went to plan. 

The sound of steel boots on the cobbles drew my attention well before the soldiers rounded the corner. Their chest plates were emblazoned with the symbol of the Inquisition; I counted a dozen men, but where was the Inquisitor? I did not see him or either of his companions.

The leader of the group stepped forward and offered her hand in greeting. “I am Lyssa.” I slid off the chest and shook her hand. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Lyssa. Is the Inquisitor running late?” I enquired.

“The Inquisitor will not be joining us, I’m afraid. He was called away on urgent business.” 

“Then I assume his mage friend will not be joining us either?” 

“You would be correct. Messere Pavus has left with the Inquisitor. Is there a problem?” she asked.

I had hoped to have this conversation with the Inquisitor rather than one of his Lieutenants. I gestured towards the weapons chest behind me “This chest is heavily warded, not to mention the enchantments on the weapons themselves can be quite dangerous when not handled properly. I would not feel comfortable just handing them over without his presence or Messere Pavus.” 

“Surely they cannot be that dangerous.” she said, a little incredulous.

“Everything from The Black Emporium is dangerous.’ I said rather forcefully, “I would not want one of your soldiers to be injured from simply mishandling the merchandise” 

She sighed and stared thoughtfully at the chest. “It will be a long time before we come through these parts again. Could the wards be removed to minimise the risk?” 

“It would take time you do not have and I would not want to Inquisitor coming back for a refund if you're overrun by bandits”. I pretended to think over my response. 

“I was planning on leaving for Ferelden within the next month. I could simply accompany you and your soldiers to Skyhold. It would save any delays and we can both rest peacefully at night.” I was only a small lie. One I was unlikely to be caught out on. The only way I was getting out of Kirkwall anytime soon was with a company of soldiers at my back.

After some thought Lyssa agreed and we spent a few more minutes discussing the details of the trip. She directed me towards the merchant vessel which would be taking us over the Waking Sea, they would be leaving within the hour once the supplies had been loaded. Four soldiers stepped forward and, grabbing a handle each, they lifted the chest and carried it towards the ship.

I remained behind as the soldiers made their way towards the ship. There was no need for me to return to the Emporium to gather my things as they presumed. I had already spoken at length with Xenon and convinced him that the Inquisition would have valuable resources to continue my research into his curse. I had used this as a reason to leave many times before and the excuse was starting to wear a little thin. His disapproval grew with every failure to find a cure and it was harder to convince him each time.

I promised to write regularly about my progress once I left, as usual, and I was to return to Kirkwall before the next autumn. That gave me around six months to do as I pleased. 

Truthfully, it was not just simple wanderlust that drove me out of Kirkwall. I had felt more and more unwell as the months passed. It was as though the city itself was sucking the light from my soul. It had been a gradual decline, but I was now unable to sleep for more than three or four hours at a time and spent most of my days irritable and lethargic. 

At least with the Inquisition Xenon could guarantee a measure of safety on my journey South. It was simply the matter of convincing the Inquisition to let me join them for a time, at least long enough to get in touch with my contacts. It had been so long since I had been out on the road and it would take a while to establish old connections and get the flow of information going again. Most importantly I would have to find out where not to go avoid most of the fighting. I collected my rucksack from where it was hidden and followed shortly after to join the crew.

 

\-------

 

The spray of salt water was refreshing on my face as I watched Kirkwall fade into the distance. It would be a few months at least before I had to return to this godforsaken city. My heart felt lighter and I could not help the smile that crept onto my face as massive bronze statues faded into the distance.

I spent most of the afternoon on the deck watching with idle interest as the crew steered the ship towards Ferelden. It would be about week at sea and, once we reached land, almost two weeks to reach Skyhold if everything went according to plan. Summer storms were not uncommon on the Waking Sea and there was sure to be bandits and rogue templars or mages between Jader and the Frostbacks. 

Lyssa invited me to join her for supper that evening. It was decent fair, there was mutton and fresh apples the crew had loaded on that morning. Lyssa was easy to get along with, she had been a soldier in the Fereldan military before joining the Inquisition and we passed the time easily trading stories of our travels. 

“Sounds like you've been all over the place. What exactly do you do for Xenon?”

I turned to look at her directly, “before the war I travelled a lot. I spent most of my time exploring old ruins or haggling with dusty old merchants in Antiva. Most of what is in the Emporium was acquisitioned by me.”

“Sounds like dangerous work. I hope it pays well.”

The thought of Xenon paying wages was laughable.

“It's enough.” I said, my expression soured.

“I don't mean to offend. Most of what you hear about that place sounds creepy as hell.”

“That is certainly one way to describe it. You get used to it, I suppose” I said. It was easy to feign a smile. When I first began working for Xenon I had kept a tally of the income I had made through the various weapons and artifacts I had personally uncovered. Not for any practical purpose, but thinking of all the silks and jewels I could buy with my imagined wealth helped pass the time. Xenon eventually had me take over the administrative side of the business and I had made my fictional wealth a reality. I didn’t have enough stored away to retire to a villa in Antiva just yet but robbing Xenon inch by inch was one of the smaller pleasures in life. 

After the meal was finished the soldiers and crew lingered in the galley talking and playing cards. Lyssa had drifted away after our meal and was now playing a rather intense game of Wicked Grace with a few of the soldiers. It was an interesting game but I had only known these men and women a few hours and their easy comradely left me feeling out of place. I slipped out of the galley quietly and returned to my cabin for the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the comments and kudos. It's very encouraging to someone new to the fanfic game. I've made some small changes to the first chapter for anyone who's interested.


	3. Chapter 3

We had been fortunate with the weather so far, the winds steady and the skies clear. Most of my days on the ship passed in the same way, when I was not working on the small journal I brought with me I spent my time on deck enjoying the sun watching the sailors work. I spent the evenings in the galley with the soldiers trading stories or playing cards. They were an easy bunch to get along with.

My journals occupied most of my time. I kept record of rumors, contacts, any information I could gather to help cure Xenon of his little problem. I had accumulated a dozen like it over the years. Before the war started I had been attempting to track down an old tome that supposedly described the location of an ancient elven artifact of incredible power. My contact, Klaus, had grown up in Kinloch Hold and was lucky enough to be transferred to Kirkwall before the Ferelden Circle had fallen. His information was vague at best, when I spoke with him it had been years since he had moved to the Free Marches. It was precious little information to go off but I had started journeys with less. I suppose Klaus was either dead or with the rebel mages now. I had no way of knowing.

I had not told Xenon about this particular lead. The artifact, a foci if my hunch was correct, would only amplify the abilities of the caster and since I had not found a spell to restore Xenon to his original state, he would remain black and crispy with or without the foci. It would, however, be an immense help with my own spellwork.

As far as I knew the Ferelden Circle had been abandoned since the Blight. I would not be surprised if looters had picked the place clean years ago, but your average treasure hunter was more concerned with items of obvious worth rather than a dusty old book. Nevertheless, it would be foolish to go there myself before finding out more about the Circles current state. The Veil tended to be more worn in places where a great amount of magic had been performed and the Circles had been a nexus for magical energies for the last few hundred years. If all the horror stories of blood magic and abominations during the last blight were true then the veil would be incredibly thin there. I wouldn’t be surprised if a rift had opened somewhere in the ruins.

The Inquisition was well organised, the morning we landed in Jader there was another half dozen soldiers along with a cart and draft horses waiting for us at the docks. The soldiers were pleased to see land again and it took little time to load up the all to goods into the cart. I left the soldiers to prepare and raced quickly towards the markets to purchase a warmer coat. 

It took a little while to find a merchant who did not immediately frown at the sight of my ears and then a little longer to haggle her down to a reasonable price, but I was happy to pay the coin for a good winter coat. It would be freezing once we entered the mountains and I would have little opportunity to purchase appropriate gear before we made it to Skyhold. The coat reached almost to my knees and the sleeves had to be rolled slightly, I was taller compared to most other elves but it was still made for a human's frame. The detailed leather was pleasing to the eye and the fennec fur lining would provide enough warmth for the weeks of travel ahead. 

I felt like I had wasted too much time at the market and rushed to the village gates to meet with the troops. They had only just reached the gates when I arrived. I waved to Lyssa to signal my arrival and fell in with the back line.

I had become friendly with a corporal named Garrus during our time across the Waking Sea. His father had been a tailor in Denerim for many years and seeking opportunity for travel and adventure he had signed up with the Inquisition a few months ago, much to his father's dismay. We walked together at the rear of the guard, his companion Derek didn't speak much, but Garrus was loquacious enough for the whole company. 

“You must be our good luck charm, Enasa. It was pouring with rain the whole journey North.” 

“You’ll jinx it, talking like that.” said Derek. 

“You can’t change the weather just by talking about it, Derek. Well, unless you’re a mage. But even then it's only temporary.” said Garrus. 

I tuned out their conversation, enjoying the simple pleasure of the passing scenery. I had slept better in the last few days than I had in months. The fresh air and light exercise was a welcome relief after being cooped up in the Emporium and I felt better than I had in months.

“- time you were in Ferelden”

“Pardon?” I said, turning towards Garrus. 

“I asked when the last time you were in Ferelden. You mentioned travelin’ here before.”

When had I last been through Ferelden? Long enough to cause suspicion in any case. “ Not sure of the exact dates. Before the Blight, I suppose.” 

“Before the Blight? You don’t look a day over twenty, perhaps twenty five.” Garrus said incredulously. 

Derek slapped him over the head, “it's impolite to speak of lady's age.”

“My elven heritage is good for something, at least. I have not had someone correctly guess my age in many years.”

He had sense enough not to ask my actual age with Derek glaring at his head. 

I continued before they could start arguing again. “The nature of my work has sent me all over the place. I’ve spent a great deal of time in Antiva and Rivain. Orlais has its charm but it's not particularly friendly to the elves. I haven't had much need to travel south for business.”

The conversation soon turned to the crafting of blades in Orlais and Antiva and how the techniques differed. A good historian could tell where and when a soldier was from just from examining the weapons left on a battlefield. I showed Garrus and Derek my daggers and they fawned over the craftsmanship. 

We had covered a fair distance despite not landing in Jader until early afternoon. We set up camp in a small field just off the road as the sun began to set. My small tent was quick to set up and I watched as Lyssa began giving orders; who would take first watch, whose turn it was to cook and who's to gather wood. It was something they had clearly done many times before and I did my best to stay out of the way and not make a nuisance of myself. 

We all ate together in small groups, the mood was light and most stayed up to talk or play cards before heading back to their tents. There would be many long days of walking ahead of us and I hoped the good mood would last. 

I drew the flaps shut on my tent and settled in for the evening. I placed some small, subtle wards around the entrance to alert me of anyone tried to enter while I was asleep. I doubted anyone would try anything untoward - I had been travelling with them for almost a week now with no issue - but there were animals and other dangers now we had reached land. I had not survived this long without a healthy sense of paranoia. If you were prepared for the worst little would surprise you. 

After spending the afternoon walking it did not take me long to fall asleep. I drifted through the fade, enjoying the serenity of the field we had made camp in. It was absent of any powerful spirits, only a few wisps to keep me company. I laid in a field of wildflowers, summers past. The hills stretched gently before me and a warm breeze whispered through the leaves. I could not recall the memory of where I had seen such a place, but that was the nature of the fade. It filled in the gaps where necessary if you didn’t concentrate too hard on the details.

A noise from the outside of my tent awoke me during the night. In my sleep addled state I thought it was simply the watch changing but soon realised it was the sound of rain landing on the canvas of my tent. I was a poor luck charm indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little interesting! A lot of time skips here as I didn't want to spend too much time concentrating on travelling from A to B. 
> 
> Comments are always welcomed.

When I awoke properly the next morning the rain had stopped. I packed up my tent in the early morning light and helped the soldiers prepare the horses for the day ahead. Most had already eaten by the time I got back to the centre of camp and I declined to eat what was left over. The thought of eating anything that early was enough to turn my stomach to knots.

It was decided I would travel close to the supplies for the rest of the journey. Lyssa had received reports of bandits in the area and while I could defend myself, I had no formal training like the rest of the group. If there was a fight I would be more of a distraction if they had to concentrate on defending me. I had not told anyone that I was a mage but it would make little difference if it came down to a real fight. Living as an apostate meant most of the magic I practiced was more defensive or domestic in nature. If pressed I could protect myself with magic - it is an instinct for any mage - but I tried to avoid those scenarios when travelling with larger groups. The less who could identify you as a mage in a line up the better.

I had quite a few letters I needed to send out once we reached the next town. Most of my official business was conducted back at The Emporium under the watchful eyes of Xenon and Thaddeus. My, uh, personal business endeavors were only ever addressed when I was well outside of Kirkwall. 

There was my bookkeeper in Antiva for one. I liked to keep in touch to assure them I wasn’t dead and it was too dangerous to make contact from Kirkwall. I wasn’t sure what they did with your assets after you’re presumed dead but I’m sure it would be difficult to get it all back. I don’t know what Xenon would do if he ever found out I was hiding coin from him but it wouldn't be pleasant. 

If I managed to stay away longer than the precious few months I had been allotted I would eventually need coin. There was accommodation, food, spellbooks, other general travel expenses, and you never knew when you might need to bribe someone. I needed a dependable income to fund this little vacation. 

Trickier still would be getting in contact with my old business acquaintances in the South. It had been quite some time since I had spoken to most of them, well before the last blight at least. Matthias had been based in Val Royeaux for as long as I had known him so I would use him as my first point of contact. Last we spoke he was tracking down a rather rare and most definitely forbidden tome on blood magic for me. I doubt he would have held onto such a hot item for this long but who knows. 

Matthias was the closest person I had to a friend even though we rarely met in person. We usually arranged a drop site or a third party to deliver any items and most of our correspondence was via letters. I didn’t like to spend too much time in Orlais if I could avoid it.  
I had pushed quite a few of interested buyers his way when he had first started his business and he had been making a tidy profit off of black market magical goods before the war started. He appreciate my need for privacy and never raised an eyebrow at some of my more unusual requests. It was a dangerous game, flagrantly flaunting Chantry law. I had never thought to ask if it was personal grudge or another reason which drew him towards black market trade. I would have to ask in my next letter.

There were quite a few things I would need to organise if a trip to Kinloch Hold was feasible, but that could wait until we reached Skyhold. If I could use some of the Inquisition's resources it would make my life a lot easier. 

When we arrived at the next town a day or so later I sent off my letters, asking them to send any replies to Skyhold. By sending them now I would hopefully start receiving replies shortly after arriving at Skyhold rather than waiting weeks. There was only a limited time before I ended up back in Xenon’s pocket and I needed to make the most of it. 

The Inquisition's soldiers were met warmly at the next town, they had passed through here on their way North a few months ago and had taken care of a group of rogue Templars who had been threatening the townspeople for coin and supplies. Lyssa tried to politely refuse their offers of compensation but the owner of the local Inn insisted we at least take a cask of ale for the road. It was loaded up with the rest of our supplies and most of the soldiers spent the evening in the tavern. It was nice to spend an evening sitting in front of the fireplace rather than in the dirt. The first few days on the road were always the worst and my body was stiff in muscle groups I hadn’t used in years.

Our days continued mostly in the same fashion. We would wake early, pack up camp and continue our journey towards Skyhold. I would chat with Garrus or Lyssa as we travelled, chatting about whatever topic first came to mind. In the evenings we would set up camp and most of the soldiers would play a game of cards before retiring for the evening. Rinse and repeat

At about the halfway point of our journey I awoke one morning to the sound of thunder rolling in the distance. Myself and a few of the other soldiers scrambled to secure the tarp on the wagons before the rain started.

Unfortunately, the rain did not ease the further we travelled towards the Frostbacks. It was too difficult to start a fire in the evenings and soon everyone’s underclothes were damp from the relentless downpour. I could have easily dried my clothes with a simple spell but the risk of revealing myself was too great for so little a reward. So I continued on just as damp and uncomfortable as the rest of the group. 

The roads had been fine so far but the poor weather was a growing concern for everyone. No one had said anything specifically but I could tell from the look on Lyssa’s face that she was worried. Without the constant flow of trade the roads were in bad need of repair in some places and we had been lucky to not encounter any fallen trees or other delays so far. It was not uncommon for whole sections on the road to wash away in this kind of weather and the horses could only pull the carts if there was solid ground beneath their feet.. 

The scouts has spotted a rudimentary shelter ahead and we set up camp early that night, losing what little advantage we had made in the days previous. The rocky outcrop provided a little shelter and we were able to start a fire and dry our clothes. One of the troops, Mara, had bought a small flute in Kirkwall and played a few short songs for the group. She played quite well despite her small amount of experience and it was uplifting to listen to a little music. A few others joined in, singing a few tavern songs they had picked up on the road. A few of the songs were quite amusing and I was glad to see at least a few smiling faces after so many miserable days of travel. 

The rain was relentless when we left the next morning. We were nearing the foot of the mountains and the roads had slowly but surely became steeper. We began to come across cliffs and narrow pathways that would be perfect for an ambush and the tension in the group was almost palpable as we waited for the scouts to give the all clear.

I had to steady myself on the cart more than a few times when my boots lost traction in the mud but I was yet to fall and make a fool of myself. We came to a sudden stop and I almost fell again as the cart jostled from side to side. The group shuffled awkwardly to a halt and a few of the soldiers came to investigate the hold up. One on the wheels was lodged in the muck and the horses were struggling to free themselves. I moved to the back of the cart to help push the cart. We grunted and heaved but the wheel wouldn’t come loose. I got onto my hands and knees and crawled under the cart and on closer inspection there was a branch caught in the spokes, preventing the wheel from turning. 

I wiggled in closer, to get a good grip on the branch, my elbows sinking into the mud. I was so intent on my task I failed to notice the change in the group until the horses began to scream and everyone flew into action. I scrambled out from under the cart, afraid to get crushed under the panicked horses if they did manage to break free. 

“ARCHERS”

I ducked my head and drew my daggers, the mud caking my hands made them a little tricky to grip. The sound of arrows whistled high above as the attackers let off their first shots and I looked up to see half a dozen men exiting the tree line with their swords drawn. Common bandits by the look of them. They must have been intimately familiar with the area to avoid the notice of our scouts.

I moved as quickly as possible towards the the other side of the cart, seeking shelter as the soldiers moved forward to meet them. One of the soldiers had already fallen, an arrow lodged in his neck. I side stepped his body - there was not enough time to check if his wound was mortal- and made my way to relative safety. 

I pressed my back against the cart, my ears strained to hear every little bit of movement. The sounds of swords clashing and screaming the the distance. The wet thud has bodies landed in the mud. 

The horses screamed again and the supplies hit the wall of the cart with a thud as the whole thing began to tilt onto it’s side. I darted forward to avoid being crushed by the falling crates and in the commotion I didn’t notice the man sneaking up behind me. The slight intake of breath was my only warning before a dagger came for my throat. I could feel the sting across my neck as it pierced my skin and I darted to the side, swiping my dagger blindly. He looked dirty and desperate as he rushed me again and I jumped back to avoid him. With each parry I moved further and further back desperately hoping I wouldn’t trip on something. He was much stronger and quicker than I was and I soon found myself disarmed with my back pressed awkwardly against the chest I had arrived with.

I wrapped my hands around his wrist to try and stop him from slitting my throat and my arms soon began to tremble with the effort. In one last desperate attempt I swiped my leg towards to kneecap hoping to throw him off balance. He stumbled forward slightly and I moved to the side. Without my weight to lean into he braced himself on the weapons chest to avoid slipping in the mud and I poured my mana into the seals. The effect was instantaneous. 

His body began convulsing as lightning danced across his skin. He screamed and screamed as the heat began to boil him from the inside out and the smell of his burning flesh was overwhelming. 

The wards had been designed to paralyse or at least incapacitate anyone trying to steal from the chest and with the outpouring of my mana the effect was twenty fold.

His body collapsed to the floor still twitching and I sank to my knees, breathing heavily. I had released my mana too quickly and uncontrolled. I was dizzy and had little left to defend myself with.

Two soldiers I didn’t recognise rounded the cart in a rush after hearing the man's screams. The younger one was staring at the body, still smoking, and began gagging at the smell. I closed my eyes to steady myself as I got onto my feet, neither offered to help me up and I could not bring myself to resent them for it. I must have looked a fright.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update. It's always hectic over the holiday season. 
> 
> Comments always welcomed! ( I can't believe this has 32 kudos!)

I had slept later than usual after the stress of the previous day and when I approached the campfire no one would meet my eye. After the violent display of magic the day before even Garrus and Derek, who I had been on friendly terms with, would not speak with me. This, sadly, did not surprise me. A week of travelling on the road together could not make up for centuries of superstition and hatred of mages. Lyssa had some rather pointed questions the next morning and I did my best to avert her suspicions. After the battle was over I had managed to convince her my condition was due to the shock of a near death experience and not the use of magic but I don’t think she was fully convinced.

 _What happened exactly?_ It’s all a blur, he almost slit my throat.

 _Why had the wards reacted that way?_ I don’t know, maybe he was a mage. 

Had a mage been in their party my deception would not have worked. Any enchantment that strong would not have been stable enough to travel, not to mention dangerous. The actual wards on the chest were only deadly if you tried to open the chest. They were designed to give you enough time to regroup if suddenly ambushed and prevent the bandits carrying away the goods. It may have been wiser to tell them what had actually occurred, but I did not trust them with the truth. 

After breakfast I turned my attention to the chest to examine the damage; this too, the soldiers look upon with suspicion. The scorch marks on the chest were a glaring reminder of what had happened the day before. When we met I had told them that everything in The Black Emporium was dangerous and they now included me on that list. I caught two of the younger soldiers arguing over who would load it back onto the cart, fearing the same fate as the bandits. Eventually Garrus and Derrek stepped forward and picked it up without issue, maybe our budding friendship had not completely gone to shit.

The mood was subdued the rest of the trip and I concentrated on regaining my strength. I avoided combat at all costs when travelling on my own and the ambush had sapped me of the strength I had gained since leaving Kirkwall.

The path got steeper and steeper the further we went up the mountain and the mood gradually lighter as we entered more familiar territory for the soldiers. There was a collective sigh of relief as Skyhold came into view. How had the come to find this place? It was difficult to date the structure from the architecture but up in these mountains it would have been lost to time centuries ago.

I was left a little adrift as the soldiers began their usual routines. Some guided to horses and carts towards the stables while others greeted old friends in the courtyard. Seeing my expression Lyssa pointed me towards the tavern where I could find lodgings for the evening.

The Herald's Rest was cramped and noisy even in the middle of the day. The barkeep was friendly enough, even more so when I expressed interest in renting a room for the foreseeable future. 

After so many days travelling my most important business involved a hot tub of water and a bar of soap. Thankfully the bathhouse was mostly empty and I had a few precious moments to relax in silence. It had been an exhausting few days and the tension since the altercation with the bandits had taken a toll on my nerves. This would not be the end of it, I’m sure. Nonetheless, I appreciated the moment alone.

I returned to the tavern after my bath hoping to get something to eat before I retired for the evening. There were groups of rowdy soldiers and other such patrons in various states of intoxication. After gathering my meal I made my way towards the only table that wasn’t fully occupied. I didn’t recognise the dwarf sitting there at first, that was until he introduced himself as Varric Tethras. 

He was a merchant, a well known author and above all a rogue of the highest sort. Tethras was a name that came up often in the streets below Hightown. We had met briefly when he had accompanied the Champion of Kirkwall to The Emporium but there was no spark of recognition in his eyes, even when I mentioned who my employer was. 

We continued to talk even after I had finished my meal. It was nice to have a conversation with someone who didn’t think I was going to explode into a shower of hellfire at any moment. He was also a very good conversationalist. 

“You’re an easy man to get along with, Varric.” 

“Could you please tell the Seeker that next time you see her.” 

“Ah, there is a bit of friction there?” 

“ Let’s just say we didn’t meet under the most.. amicable circumstances.” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“I sense there is more to the tale, Messere Tethras.” 

“ Maybe another time. You’ve been to more places than I have fingers and toes. How many languages do you speak?” he asked, changing the topic. 

“I can read and write in Common of course.” I began listing them on my fingers, “Orlesian, several dialects of Antivan and Rivani. Oh! Elven as well but that doesn’t really count.” I probably shouldn’t have added the last one but the ale had loosened my tongue and my skill with language was always been something I could be proud of.

“Why wouldn’t Elven count? That’s a rare talent.” 

“Exactly. It’s not as though I have anyone to speak it with. And the written language has been considered practically extinct for the better half of a millennia.” 

“Then where did you learn it?” 

“My mother taught me to read and write. I never thought to ask who taught her.” It wasn’t a total lie. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” he said. Mentioning your dead parents tends to put a stop to most lines of questioning.

“Don’t worry, it was a long time ago now.”

“Remind me to introduce you to someone tomorrow. If you’re going to be here a while there’s a guy who could use your help.” 

“My help?” 

“The Inquisitor has come across more ancient texts and old scrolls then he knows what to do with. They could use the help translating a lot of documents.” 

“ That certainly sounds interesting, Messere Tethras. Speaking of tomorrow, if I don’t retire soon I won’t be able to crawl out of bed till noon.” 

“Well don’t stay up on my account. It was nice to meet you, Enasa.” 

“You too, Varric.” I replied, rising from the table. I headed for the stairs. Most of the others had cleared out by this stage and I didn’t have too much trouble getting back to my rooms. Meeting Varrics friend tomorrow will be interesting if nothing else.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quickly reached and surpassed what I had already written and planned for this story. Thus, less frequent updates as I muddle through all this. 
> 
> The italics in this chapter denote the Elven language. I debated whether to attempt a translation but decided it would be too time consuming. I'm very lazy, unlike many other amazing authors on this website.

The next day I had more ample opportunity to explore the castle. I had been too tired and anxious to fully appreciate it when we had first arrived through it’s gates. They had obviously spent much time and resources to restore the fortifications and main buildings to their former glory, and even improved in some ways. You could still see where the new joins met old stone, if one looked carefully enough. When I was not in Kirkwall I spent much of my time crawling through the crumbling ruins of forgotten empires. It warmed my heart to see such a magnificent old fortress brought back to life.

 

A makeshift market had been set up in the lower courtyard. Despite it’s remote location Skyhold had become one of the only safe places to trade in the area and the courtyard hummed with the sounds of life. Traders bustled to and fro, hawking wares and haggling with customers. There were soldiers ushering cart loads of vegetables, and what appeared to be a herd of goats, towards the kitchens. Between all this servants and nobles alike lingered and rushed through the courtyard in equal measures. 

 

I moved through the grounds slowly, familiarising myself with the layout. There were many rooms in Skyhold still closed off, rickety scaffolding and steep drops just past the doorways. It made navigating the place just that little bit more challenging. I discovered a small garden in the upper courtyard and I marvelled at some of the more delicate flora that had taken root. It was a wonder anything grew this high up. The fortress seemed to be in perpetual spring, untouched by the harsh climate of the mountains. 

 

The more I wandered the more curious I became. The earth was steeped in old magic that obviously predated the castle itself, anyone with strong connection to the fade could feel it. It was a difficult sensation to describe, like a low humming noise you don’t notice until it is absent. How had the Inquisitor manage to find this place? Alas, it was all a mystery that would have to remain unsolved. At least for the time being. I had too many other pressing matters to deal with than my idle curiosity.

 

Before I know it noon had arrived and it was time to meet with Varric and his friend. I turned to make my way back towards the tavern and almost ran into Varric as he rounded the corner.

 

“Just the woman I was looking for!” Varric said. 

 

“Likewise.” I replied with a small smile. 

 

“Have you seen the library yet?” He asked as we began walking towards the main hall. We had run into each other close to the entrance and it didn’t take long to reach the stairs.

 

“It looked rather crowded in the main hall, I spent most of the morning outside.” I replied as we began our ascent.

 

“It’s a nice day out but there’s no need to be shy.” Varric said as he pushed the doors open, “You’ve just got to have a firm destination in mind and plow through all the ruffled skirts.” There was indeed a great many many ruffled sleeves and skirts.

 

I laughed quietly and Varric grinned. 

 

Varric open one of the side doors and we walked into an atrium. A single desk was in the middle of the room, littered with loose papers and books. My eyes were immediately drawn to the walls of the room. It was a beautiful fresco, in the elvhen style, depicting the Inquisitions history so far. I had only seen similar works in old temples and ruins. The full effect was striking. 

 

Someone coughed politely behind me and I turned around quickly, embarrassed. It was not like me to miss someone entering a room. The man appeared to have just come down from the stairs, yet another book in his hand. He was tall for an elf, even taller than myself, his features were handsome - if not for the bald head - and he was dressed plainly. Varric clearly recognised the man and stepped forward to introduce us. 

 

“ Enasa, this is Solas.” He said gesturing towards him, “Solas, Enasa”.

 

Once the short introduction was over I stepped forward to shake his hand. 

 

“Pleasure to meet you. Varric says you have some work for me.” 

 

Solas looked towards Varric with a small frown, “ I was not aware I had applied for an assistant.” 

 

“Well you clearly need one” he said, gesturing towards piles of books on the desk. “The Inquisitor thought you needed the help and Enasa was kind enough to volunteer.” 

 

“I wouldn't say volunteered.” Volunteering implied I wouldn't get paid for my work. Varric raised his eyebrows at me as if to say  _ go on. _

 

“Varric said you needed help translating some old manuscripts. I’m fluent in several languages and I’ve done a small amount of translating as part of my work.”

 

Obviously more intune with Varric's antics than I, Solas sat down at his desk with an almost inaudible sigh.

 

“ Parlez-vous bien le Orlesian?” he said, staring directly at me. 

 

“Très bien. Presque mieux que l'common. Je parle couramment l'antivan et plusieurs dialectes de l'rivani.” I said firmly. Perhaps a little too cocky a response but I needed to show confidence. 

 

“You sound almost like a native.” he said, but clearly not impressed. Half of the Inquisition was from Orlais. 

 

“I spent quite a few years in The Dales.” 

 

“I only understood half of that but I did notice you didn’t mention Elven.” Varric interjected. I gave him a sharp look. He was very hung up on the dead language thing but it did seem to raise Solas’s interest. “I am as fluent as one can be in the language.” I said. 

 

Solas had begun shuffling through the papers on his desk as I spoke and soon produced an old book. He flicked through the pages and, quickly scanning over it, he handed to me, pointing towards a paragraph of text. “Please translate this as accurately and as possible.” 

 

I studied the words for a moment, quickly recognising the text. It was an excerpt from an old poem. “Be certain in need / and the path will emerge / to a home tomorrow / and time will again / be the joy it once was.”

 

I continued, “ I would place date this particular text before the Exalted March. You do not see this particular use of grammar in modern use.” I was sure Solas could stare down a herd of juggling druffalo and look just as impressed. I made a mental note to never play cards with him.

 

_ “Where did you study the language?” _ he asked, leaning forward in his seat.

 

_ “My mother taught me to read and write.”  _ I replied, placing the book back on the desk. The Elven language was lyrical when spoken with the right inflections and I had not had the pleasure of listening to a native speaker in many years. I could not remember the last conversation I had with my mother, nor the last time I had spoken Elven in casual conversation. 

 

_ “And her?”  _

 

_ “Her mother, I presume, she passed before I thought to ask these questions.” _

 

_ “Ah, my apologies.” _ I could tell he was still eager to ask more questions. Only proprietary and our lack of familiarity held his tongue.

 

_ “No matter, it has been a long time.” _

 

I then wondered where Solas had learnt the language. He did not have the vallaslin of the Dalish, besides, their insular nature and oral tradition meant the language had changed drastically over the years, what little was left of it. The Dalish tended to use the common phrases and greetings of their predecessors interlaced with the common language rather than communicating fluently. Solas spoke as though he belonged in the courts if Arlathan.

 

Another set of questions to add to my growing list. 

  
Solas remained silent for a moment before coming to a decision. “If you come back tomorrow morning I should have some work for you. Varric can show you upstairs, there should be some space in the library for you to work.” 


End file.
